If His Smirk Was A Lighthouse Then His Smile Was Morning
by sitabethel
Summary: Just when Ryou gets a moment to "be alone", Yami Marik appears. Ryou knows he should be afraid but he's . . . too distracted. Deathshipping/ One-shot/ pwp.


*****Quick disclaimer: Auto-erotica, lemon, a razor blade . . . but it's one of my stories so no one actually gets hurts.*****

* * *

He'd only intended to stay up late and watch old horror movies; however, by the time he made it to Candyman, Ryou realized he was alone. Alone wasn't something Ryou experienced often since the thief possessing the Ring hung over his shoulder almost every minute of every day, but the horror movie marathon had bored the spirit and the thief had retreated to his soul room to sleep.

Ryou loosened the string to his pajama bottoms and traced death-pale fingers down the curve of his own stomach. He took his time, feeling the softness of his own skin, teasing himself, avoiding the area he wanted to touch most. In the background, The Candyman whispered, and the voice, both gravel and cashmere, made the muscles in Ryou's lower abdomen clench. He'd had a mild crush on Tony Todd, specifically in his Candyman persona. The dark-skinned, murderous spirit with a story fetish made getting disemboweled by a rusted hook seem like the sexiest, most erotic thing in the world. Ryou gasped as he finally curled his fingers around his shaft. He lay still and shivered for a moment, drawing out the experience as long as possible.

His face burned as he found a steady rhythm with his hand, all the while imagining being seduced by a violent spirit. Ryou's stomach hitched as orgasm drew close. Ryou stopped a moment, calming himself down, prolonging release as long as he could. He didn't know when the chance to please himself would appear again, so he didn't want to rush.

Ryou didn't notice the shadow fall over him, and didn't realize another person stood in the room until he felt a heavy weight straddle him. Ryou grunted, eyes shooting open, and he saw two burning vortexes of lilac and a grin that looked like a it'd been carved into the other's face with a knife. Even with a blanket between them, Ryou's face burned with embarrassment.

"I was hoping it's be that bothersome thief when I killed you. It would have been a treat to humble him, but you'll have to do. Any last words?"

"I - I, uh," Ryou couldn't breath, he just wanted to move his hand but Marik's other half had it pinned with his body weight.

Marik's darkness tilted his head to the side. "Do you always blush when you're afraid?"

"This is more embarrassing than frightening," Ryou confessed in a nervous fit of honesty.

A curious expression fluttered across the other Marik's face. He stared at Ryou, and then the blanket covering Ryou, and then he thrust his had between his legs and caught Ryou's hand despite the thick layer of comforter. "Hee, hehe, hehehe . . ." The chuckle hiccuped from his mouth as he realized what he'd interrupted. The other Marik exploded with laughter; he rolled off of the sofa and hit his head against the coffee table with a loud crack.

"Ow!" the other Marik called out, holding the back of his head but still laughing.

"I hate my life." Ryou pulled the covers over his head. "I mean, it's bad enough that I'm possessed by an ancient Egyptian thief who's possessed by a dark god, but now his stupid, schizophrenic boyfriend breaks into my house _the one night_ I finally get an hour to myself." The blanket muffled his voice, but he couldn't show his face at the moment.

The other Marik sat up, his voice sounded offended. "I'm not schizophrenic. I have D.I.D."

"Why are you even here?"

The other Marik shrugged. "Marik wanted to see Bakura. I wanted to kill Bakura. We got lost finding your apartment, so Marik got pissed off and I took over."

"But didn't he banish you?"

A dark chuckle rumbled low in the other Marik's throat. "Yes, but a card game can't fix over ten years of abuse and repression. That banishment lasted two weeks before my foolish other heart started dissociating again." He glanced over at the t.v. screen and frowned when he heard screams and saw blood. "Hey, this isn't porn; this is a horror movie."

"So?" Ryou asked, peaking from beneath his blanket.

"You were jerking off to this?"

Ryou felt his face redden all over again. "I-I wasn't really paying attention to the movie."

The other Marik smirked, leaping back on the couch and on top of Ryou again. He leaned close to Ryou's face. "That sounded like a half-truth to me. They're the best kind of lies, y'know, because they're so close to reality that you can even convince yourself that they're true."

"I refused to be judged by _you_." Ryou crossed his arms over his chest and snorted in an attempt to mask the sheer mortification flooding over him.

The other Marik snickered. "Hey, I won't judge you. Blood and screams turn me on, too." He reached into the pocket of his cargo pants and pulled out a straight razor. The steal reflected the shifting colored lights from the television set. He pressed the flat of the blade against Ryou's collar bone and traced a soft trail down Ryou's neck line and to the first button on Ryou's pajama top. With three deft flicks of his wrist, the other Marik demonstrated his proficiency with the weapon by removing the top three buttons of Ryou's shirt.

Ryou shivered, not from fear but from to cool caress of the blade against his skin.

"Having trouble breathing?"

He was, but again, not from fear. Ryou opened his eyes and stared at Marik's other half. The situation was too parallel to the movie - Marik's counterpart needed the violence to continue existing, he _needed_ Ryou to be his victim, but the fantasy was only fun as a fantasy. Even in his morbid imagination it hadn't been a hook that pierced Ryou, nor a razor.

"Dammit," Ryou swore. "This isn't quite what I had in mind."

"Were you the one doing the cutting when you had your eyes closed?"

"No."

The other Marik grinned. "There's no shame in it, not with me. This is going to be beautiful."

He cut the rest of Ryou's buttons from his shirt. Ryou wanted to be scared, and he wanted to run, but he was too far gone when the other Marik interrupted him. He couldn't bother being frightened, and he didn't want to move, and when the other Marik gave Ryou's skin a playful knick, the only thing Ryou felt was masochistic delight.

A foreign, thoughtful expression overtook Marik's face.

"Ryou," he said in a quiet voice, and Ryou didn't think Marik's other half realized that he'd called Ryou by name. "What's the look on your face? I've never seen anyone look at me like that."

"Surely not." Ryou swallowed, trying to compose his voice. "I'm sure you're not used to much more than fear or anger from people."

"Or hatred, or disgust. " The words sounded pained and bitter. "But your look is . . . different."

An _insane_ hope planted itself in Ryou's mind. "And how does it make you feel?"

Marik's other self only shrugged. "I don't know."

Ryou looked away, frowning. "It doesn't matter. Even if I told you, you'd kill me." A flash of fear finally reached Ryou's hormone-addled brain. "Are you going to make it hurt?"

"No," the other Marik whispered the word soft as an 'I love you'. He slid the blunt end of his razor across Ryou's chest, making Ryou writhe, enjoying the sensation despite himself. "This is high carbon steal. It holds a wicked edge. You'll bleed out almost as soon as your brain registers that your body's been cut. Not at all like a burning knife cutting into your back. That hurts. That hurts, but not a straight razor, not in comparison."

"Oh." Ryou couldn't properly respond, not with the cool, hard steal from the straight razor's blunt end caressing Ryou's body as Marik's other self straddled Ryou and mock-slashed at Ryou's chest.

The other Marik brought his blade away from Ryou's skin and instead touched the scars on Ryou's chest. "You never did tell me . . . why you're looking at me like that."

Ryou shook his head.

"I want to know what it means."

"And I want to live. My other half likes to remind me that we don't always get what we want."

The other Marik growled, narrowing his eyes at Ryou. "You're as stubborn as the thief."

Ryou shrugged. The other Marik's fingers still lingered on Ryou's chest and he had to choke back a happy, happy moan.

The other Marik leaned close to Ryou's face. Ryou parted his lips. For a moment, he thought the darker Marik on top of him would kiss him. Marik's other self looked like he wanted to, but he didn't move. Ryou felt bad for him; the other Marik never knew anything other than violence. He probably understood the basics of sex, but not the more loving, emotional aspect of kissing. Instead, the dark manifestation felt a nagging urge to bring his face closer to Ryou's without knowing why.

"Give me a dying wish and I'll tell you what you want to know."

The other Marik looked suspicious. "No tricks like wishing not to die."

"I'm not dumb enough to think I can get away with that."

"Then what's your wish?"

Ryou sat up. "Hold me."

His would-be murderer jerked back. "What?"

Ryou bridged the physical space between them by leaning closer. He slipped his hand beneath Marik's shirt so he could smooth his white fingers over Marik's copper waist. The other Marik grunted at the touch. His eyes grew hazy, unfocused.

"Hold me," Ryou sighed into the other Marik's chest. He took the other Marik's hands and modeled them like doll's hands around Ryou's own waist and shoulders. Ryou put his hands back on the other Marik's waist. "Tighter, Marik."

Marik's other self choked back a moan as Ryou squeezed him. "Why?"

"Because, the look I'm giving you, the one you can't puzzle out . . ." Ryou pressed his forehead against the other Marik's forehead. "It's desire."

Marik's other half gave Ryou a confused look. "I don't understand."

Ryou shook his head. "Yes you do. You know damn well what I mean - I want you."

"You mean you want my other self?"

"No, not him." Ryou frowned at the thought. "You."

"Are you trying to save yourself?"

"What?" Ryou felt himself growing oddly pissed at the accusation, although he wasn't sure why he'd be mad when he should be terrified. "I'm not stupid. A little flattery isn't going to give you some magic change of heart."

"Then why . . ."

Ryou blushed again. He was sick of blushing, and talking. "Because I'm a freak, I guess."

Ryou looked at Marik's other half and couldn't help but chuckle. He now understood why his own counterpart so often laughed, sometimes it was all one could do.

"Tell me." Ryou brushed his lips against the other Marik's ear and enjoyed the feeling of the other Marik's body shuddering against Ryou's chest. "Do you always blush when you're afraid?"

Marik's other self growled and pushed Ryou down onto the couch cushions. "Why would I be afraid of a little dove like you?"

Ryou didn't flinch or turn away. He stared at the other Marik like a cat may stare at a ball of yarn. "Violence and lust are two of the most primal instincts in human nature, but physical love can slip into emotional love - that frightens you."

"Nothing frightens me," Marik's other self leaned close and snarled in Ryou's face. "And I don't want to love you . . . I want . . . I want . . . to bite you."

Ryou leaned up so his lips almost touched the other Marik's lips. "Do it gently."

Marik's other self looked lost. "What?"

Ryou no longer feared dying.

Ryou's voice was thick and lush with want as he whispered in the other Marik's ear. "Bite me. Bite my bottom lip, but make it gentle."

"I'll bite as hard as I want." He snatched Ryou's lip with his teeth.

The first bite hurt. Marik's other self drew blood with his teeth, but Ryou rode out the pain and metallic taste because he knew the other Marik was merely acting out like an angry child.

The second bite felt sharp, but didn't break the skin and that's when Ryou knew he'd won.

The third bite almost counted as a kiss, so soft and so sweet that Ryou moaned in the other Marik's mouth and sucked on the other Marik's top lip as soon as his teeth released Ryou.

The other Marik switched from bites to kisses as if realizing his mouth's true purpose for the first time. Their hands strayed everywhere, netting into hair one moment, cupping each other's faces the next, kneading shoulders or holding waists, but their mouths stayed focused, lips against lips. The only time Ryou struggled was to get out from underneath the comforter so he could lay Marik's other half down onto the couch cushions and climb on top of him. The other Marik bucked into Ryou's groin while continuing to suck on his lips.

Little, embarrassing chirps of sound kept flying out of Ryou's mouth, but he couldn't concentrate enough to be shy about the sounds he made. He was too distracted by the other Marik's hands and hips and mouth to be self-conscious. They broke for air and Ryou chuckled again. "Y'know, you've been going about violence all wrong."

"You think so?"

"Yes. Violence is more fun when you control it. Only give your victim taste of pain - like this." Ryou dropped down to the Other Marik's throat and peppered his skin with love bites.

At first, the other Marik would only acknowledge Ryou's version of torture with quick grunts, but as Ryou traveled down to his chest, adding kisses to the occasional bite and skimming his nails ghost-like down the other Marik's sides, those grunts turned into sultry growls, and those faded into needy, wanting, desperate moans by the time Ryou's teeth caught the other Marik's erect nipple through the fabric of his shirt.

Ryou stole the straight razor from the other Marik; he didn't notice until Ryou tapped his collar bone three times with the blunt side. "Don't move."

"Shit," the other Marik cursed. A dark look shadowed his face. Ryou wasn't sure if he was angry at Ryou for stealing the blade, or himself for letting his guard down.

Ryou held the blade up. On the screen beside them, Helen crawled from a burning pile of wreckage with a baby in her arms. "Why do you think I stole this?"

The other Marik narrowed his eyes. The dark look on his face grew darker. "To slit my throat, so you can survive."

"You're so naive." Ryou guided the razor's edge down the fabric of the other Marik's tank-top. He held the material taunt to guarantee that the blade sliced into cotton and not skin. "I'd rather love you than kill you." He tossed the razor on the coffee table and bent forward to flick the other Marik's now-bare nipple with the tip of his tongue.

Marik's other self grabbed Ryou's shoulders and sat up. "You fucking idiot, why didn't you kill me when you had the advantage?"

Ryou no longer blushed or looked shy. He stared at the angry alter ego without flinching. "I don't hurt people, and I definitely don't want to hurt you."

"You don't hurt people, but I do. You're an idiot! You should have killed me!"

Ryou gestured to the razor with his eyes. "If you think you're still going to hurt me, there's your weapon. Don't forget our deal - you have to hold me."

"Stop looking at me like that!" The other Marik reached over and snatched the razor from off of the table. He brought the tip of the razor to Ryou's eyes. "I'll slice your fucking eyes out and then you'll never look at me again."

"Better get on with it," Ryou said, both his expression and tone serene.

The other Marik's hand shook, Ryou closed his eyes as the blade feathered against the skin near his eye and caused red to weep down Ryou's snow-pale face.

A sick, disgusted wail burst from the other Marik's chest. He threw the razor. It bounced off of the t.v. screen and disappeared somewhere in the shadows of the room. Marik took the scraps of his black tank-top and pressed the rag against Ryou's small cut.

Ryou placed his hands over the other Marik's fingers. "You barely scratched me. I'm fine."

"Shut-up. I hate you more than I've ever hated anyone."

"Because I made you feel bad?" Ryou asked, one brown eye blinking as the other hid behind the other Marik's cut shirt.

"Killing was the only thing that ever made me happy, and you ruined it."

"So . . . kissing didn't make you happy?" Ryou frowned. He pulled the shirt away from his face, two more drops of blood streaked down his face, but the cut was already clotting. "I'm sorry. I really thought if you experienced something pleasant then you'd want that instead of pain. I wanted-"

Ryou's words muffled to indistinguishable sounds when Marik's other self shoved his tongue into Ryou's mouth. Ryou sighed through his nose as he kissed the other Marik in return. After a minute of kissing, he giggled. "Do you still hate me?"

"Yes," the other Marik growled. "I was violence. I was hate. I knew myself. What am I now?"

"Who," Ryou whispered.

"Huh?"

"_Who _are you now. You're not a what - you're a who."

"Who am I?" Marik uttered the words as if he tongue were trying a new language for the first time. "Who am I, then?"

Ryou smoothed his cool, white hands over the other Marik's face. He ran his frost-pale fingers through the Other Marik's hair. "Tonight? My lover if you'll have me. Tomorrow? That's your choice entirely."

"If you're trying to seduce me in order to survive the night then stop. I'll let you live without sleeping with me."

"Marik." Ryou didn't know if that was the right name to call him, but he had no other name to use. He held the other Marik's face in his hands, forcing the other male to look at him. "Is it so hard to believe that someone would want you? Don't you understand that I want to spend the night with you because I want to? There's no ulterior motives."

"No . . . it doesn't make any sense. Why aren't you afraid?"

Ryou released the other Marik's face and stared at the ending credits. "When you, um, interrupted me, I wasn't thinking about the blood or screams. I was thinking . . ." Ryou cleared his throat, embarrassed all over again although he thought he was over being shy. "It was the character."

"That blonde chick?"

Ryou hit his forehead against the other Marik's shoulder. "No. The guy. The dark-skinned killer. I was fantasizing about him." Ryou looked back up into the other Marik's purple gaze. "And then you jumped on my crotch and started teasing me with a razor blade. How was I suppose to be afraid when it was like my fantasy jumped out of the television screen?"

Marik's other self looked confused.

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"I'm trying to figure out how that lie would benefit you."

"It wouldn't. Not in any way. It's just making me feel like I'm a pervert who needs counseling."

"Then - you really . . . want, to . . ."

"Yes," Ryou whispered.

Marik's other self stood, looking down at Ryou. "You probably are a pervert who needs counseling, you know, but I won't judge you for it."

Ryou raised an eyebrow. "Does that mean you're game?"

"I'm always up for a game, you already know that."

Ryou stood up and took his hand, leading him into the hallway. "This game is better played on a bed."

"Are there any rules I should know about?"

Ryou laughed. "Don't bite too hard."

"I'll bite as hard as I want." To prove his point, the other Marik grabbed Ryou's shoulders, swept the hair away, and bit into the nape of Ryou's neck.

Ryou gasped. This time Marik's other self bit firm enough for Ryou to feel it, but gently enough to make it erotic. Ryou turned around and pulled the pants away from the other Marik's thighs. When the other Marik stood naked, Ryou stepped out of his own clothes and pushed the other Marik down onto the mattress. Ryou looked down at the the scene and pursed his lips into a little knot.

"What?" The other Marik asked.

"I'm trying to think of how to make this last longer than five minutes." Ryou gave the other Marik's nipple a playful flick. "Since you have me all riled up."

A facetious grin wrinkled the other Marik's face. "Yeah, you better make this good. I gave up murdering you for this."

Ryou smirked. He had a distinctive smirk compared to the spirit of the Ring. When the dark entity smirked in was like a fortress tower, built for defense. Ryou's smirk was a light house, the same shape and structure, but built for an altogether different purpose.

Ryou coated his tongue with saliva he bent down and gave the other Marik's testicles a broad, warm lick.

"Holy fuck!" The other Marik screamed, crunching his belly and tugging at Ryou's hair and he continued to lap at the other Marik's testicles. "Fucking gods!"

Ryou didn't give Marik's alter ego time to recover. He drew the other Marik's sack into his mouth, pulling away only to nip at the other Marik's warm, brown thighs.

"Shit . . . shit . . ." the other Marik continued to curse as Ryou worked. Marik's other self kicked the mattress with the heels of his feet; he hiked his hips up every time Ryou's licks wandered near the darker Marik's erection; he screwed his eyes shut, losing himself to the experience, only to snap his eyes open again so he could watch everything Ryou did.

"Can you reach the nightstand drawer?" Ryou asked before licking his tongue up the other Marik's shaft.

"What?" the other Marik asked in return, his voice sounded dreamy and the look in his eyes matched his tone.

"The drawer. Can you reach the top drawer?"

Marik's other self glanced over his shoulder and noticed a nightstand standing near the bed. He leaned back and reached out, pulling the drawer open.

"Good. Find the little blue bottle with an orange cap and hand it to me, please."

He opened his mouth as if to argue, but Ryou licked him again, licking up the other Marik's shaft as slow as the sweat rolled down his chest. The other Marik reached into the drawer until he found the requested bottle. With a devious smirk, he chucked the bottle hard in Ryou's direction.

Ryou didn't flinch. He caught to lube and set it besides the other Marik's leg. "That was mean, to throw it so hard."

"Then don't make me fetch things for you. Besides, I wanted to see how you'd react."

"You thought it'd frighten me."

Marik's other self shrugged, neither confirming or denying.

Ryou gave the Ring on his chest a flick. "Compare to what I carry - nothing you can do will ever frighten me."

Marik's other self snorted. "I'm much worse than the thief."

"Yes. You're worse than him, but I wasn't talking about him."

The other Marik frowned.

"You know, don't you? You wore the Ring yourself, so you had to have realized that the darkness living in each item is strongest in the Ring."

"How do you . . ." he lost the question half way through asking.

Ryou smiled. "Stay sane? Stay myself?"

Marik's other self nodded.

Ryou continued to smile, closing his eyes and sighing before answering. "I love people."

"Like this?"

Ryou laughed. "No, I meant in general. This is . . ." Ryou smirked again, a lighthouse able to cut through both storm and darkness. "Different."

He lowered his mouth to take in the other Marik's full erection. Marik's other self sucked in a breath and relaxed against the mattress. His eyes stared at the ceiling, but the look was unfocused as if lost in a daydream until Ryou slipped two fingers into him. He grunted at the intrusion.

"Did that hurt?" Ryou asked.

"Like I care about pain," the other Marik growled.

"I care if you're in pain," Ryou whispered.

The other Marik only snorted, so Ryou continued working his fingers, using the blow job as a means to direct the other Marik's thoughts to more pleasant sensations. Marik's other self breathed hard; sweat glistened across his limbs and torso. After a few minutes the sound of his breathing changed. A melodic, yearning tone accompanied the breaths as Ryou sucked with his mouth and massaged with his fingers.

"Ryou," the other Marik whispered, low and guttural.

Ryou's cheeks flushed at the sound of his name.

"I want more."

Ryou slipped a third finger inside the other Marik. He dragged a loud breath into his chest and held it. After a minute, Ryou pulled all his fingers away from the other Marik's body.

"Don't stop, you bastard."

"One moment," Ryou said as he used the lubricant on his own erection.

He used his hand to guide himself. "Ah!" Ryou shouted as constricting heat surrounded him.

He looked down at the other Marik, red cheeked, sweating, and breathing hard.

"Is . . . is this?"

The other Marik didn't give Ryou a chance to finish his question. He clutched at Ryou's stark, white ass and bucked against Ryou. Ryou allowed himself to be manipulated for a moment before he started adding his own thrusts to their movements. Marik's other self growled, soft, husky sounds of desire and fulfillment. Each minute stretched on into the long, black cosmos, and at the same time flashed by quick as a moth's wings disintegrating in candle flame. The other Marik moved his right hand between them in order to stroke himself.

Ryou smiled, thinking back to how the night started with him wanting enjoy a quick moment without his nearly-ever-present evil spirit chaperon encroaching on his privacy. "I'm so glad you're here," Ryou whispered, more to himself than to his lover.

The other Marik didn't respond. The muscles in his chest stretched across his frame. Ryou started shifting his hips faster as he watched the other writhe below him. They lasted for two additional minutes before Ryou gasped.

"I can't-" he near whined into the other Marik's chest as his approaching climax cut off his words.

Marik's other self gave no indication of hearing Ryou. His nails pierced ivory skin as he clutched at Ryou's shoulder. He came even as Ryou came, lasting a few seconds longer before sinking into the white of sheets and the white of Ryou's arms.

"Oh." Ryou sighed. "That . . . was . . . good."

"Maybe it won't be so bad, if my stupid, weaker half stays here for a while."

"It's going to be funny, when they wake up in the morning and try to piece together what happened tonight."

Marik's other self looked at Ryou. "I still have to figure out who I am."

"I'm sure you will."

"Will you help me . . . to figure it out?"

Ryou smiled, and if his smirk was a lighthouse then his smile was morning. "Yes."


End file.
